


I was a Ballerina

by TaraHarkon



Series: Finding You [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Natasha Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3995191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraHarkon/pseuds/TaraHarkon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a series of quick snippets of the daily life of Natasha Romanov, exploring how her time in the Red Room affected her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I was a Ballerina

Natasha sat on the edge of her bed. She rubbed the scars on her wrist without looking, as she had done for so many years. Her gaze shot up at the sounds of footsteps and she was on her feet before Clint Barton even got into the room.  
“Hey, don't worry. I haven’t changed my mind or anything. Not as long as you haven’t.”  
“I won’t change my mind.”  
“Good.” He glanced at the handcuffs strapped to her bed and frowned. “So, about the-”  
She shook her head and he let it drop…for now.  
  


* * *

 

Natasha woke up stifling a scream. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. She sat up, unlocked the handcuffs and pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to get past the blood in her mind. She was out of their reach now. The Red Room was her past, not her future and they couldn't control her. But she couldn't shake the dream. The blood on her hands had felt so real as she looked down at Steve and watched the light go out of his eyes. And the voice.  
_“Very good, Natalia. Next target.”_  
She shuddered and stood, resolving to go have something to eat and call it quits on sleep for the night.  
  


* * *

  
  
Clint’s kids were insistent. They wanted a movie while Auntie Nat was babysitting. She let them pick, hoping against hope that they would want something modern and live action, or at least one of those 3D movies. Maybe the dragon one Clint kept talking about. Instead, they held up a battered VHS case that made her blood go cold. Snow White. Why did it have to be Snow White?  
  


* * *

 

  
“Nat?”  
She looked up to see Steve in the doorway of her room in jeans and one of those button down shirts he preferred for casual wear.  
“Hey there, Rogers. All dressed up for little old me?”  
“I wanted to talk to you.” He ignored her teasing for once and came over to sit next to her. “I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but at least hear me out.”  
He looked concerned, serious even. She tensed subconsciously but then nodded, immediately shifting to completely calm and casual.  
“Sure, what’s up?”  
“I just wanted to make sure that you knew that if you needed someone to talk to about…stuff. That I’m here. Alright?”  
She looked up at him with confusion on her face.  
“Stuff?”  
“You can’t just pretend nothing’s going on. Remember, Nat, I’m a soldier. I’ve seen the look in your eyes when you’re not hiding and I’ve seen that look before. If you need anything. Help, someone to talk to, anything. I’m here.”  
If it had been anyone else, she would have laughed and told them they were wrong, seeing things. But this was Steve. If he said it, he meant it. She was silent for what seemed like ages before she stood and started towards the door.  
“Come on, Rogers, if we’re going to talk, I’m going to need several pizzas and a few bottles of very good vodka.”


End file.
